


is it wrong to pick up gods in a tavern

by aeber



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life(?), chrom isn't stupid for once, danmachi au, fantasy au but isn't fea already a fantasy, hu... humor?, it's. very ooc, no it's not filthy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24912250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeber/pseuds/aeber
Summary: Danmachi au, where Robin(grima) is (subtly) looking for people to join his familia (like a guild) but runs into the ex(?)-head of Naga's familia who insists he wants to form a Special Bond™ with the fire emblem equivalent of satan. robin is too shy to admit he likes chrom.a gift for meeka!
Relationships: Chrom & My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Chrom/Gimurei | Grima/My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	is it wrong to pick up gods in a tavern

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meekaaaaaa](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=meekaaaaaa).



> "Fuck pining" - me, 2020
> 
> I am very aware of how ooc my characterizations of chrom and robin are. but i don't care you're going to have shameless smooth gay chrom and functional gay robin
> 
> for those who have never watched danmachi (which was me until yesterday) in short gods have descended upon earth to give 'blessings' to people so they can be adventurers and kill monsters and level up. The people who are blessed by these gods are called familias and form guilds where they go dungeon exploring together or something.
> 
> note: if an adventurer has a blessing it’s located like a tattoo on their backs
> 
> anyways take this

Robin wakes to a soft nudge on his shoulder, stirs, and cracks an eye open.

“There are better places to nap than on the ground, you know.”

He rolls over on a shoulder, shifting his weight grudgingly to his sides, and feels the wetness of dew clinging to his sleeve. His palm slips on the soil and a hand catches his wrist, just strong enough to pull him to his feet.

He squints in the afternoon sun. The man smiles at him, his gloved grip firm around his skin, blue hair, blue eyes burning in the mild colors of the fields. He’s dressed in some makeshift jumble of belts and straps that makes Robin’s eyes hurt.

But gods, does he look hot.

“A name for the trouble?”

Robin eyes him from head to shoulders, waist to boot, and gives him the least drowsy expression he can muster.

“Robin. You?”

“Chrom.” He could be radiating sunlight, Robin thinks, as the man brushes the dirt off his trousers. “And would you, perchance, be a god?”

-

Evenings in the outskirts of Ylisse have always been short, skimming the silver boundary between dusk and night as the sun set behind the flat range of mountains in the distance. It’s not as busy as the capital, lanterns and glowstone instead of streetlamps lit brightly by the castle’s servants, but Robin’s never been here before, so he doesn’t complain.

He doesn’t really get why the stranger— Chrom— walks him to the tavern and invites him to a meal, until he sits down and tells Chrom, very bluntly, that he won’t be paying the bill. Not that he didn’t want to, but he was poor, and the tavern looked very, very, rich.

Chrom waves down a serving girl and orders half the things on the menu, to Robin’s horror, and to his credit manages to horrify Robin even more by casually sliding a lump of silver to the barkeep.

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover it.” He skirts his hand dangerously close to the pale skin of Robin’s wrist as he pushes him the tankard of ale. “Think of it as payment. Aren’t you gods constantly looking for familias? I could be one. I don’t have a blessing yet.”

As if to demonstrate, he makes a motion to lift his tunic off his head, to which Robin immediately puts a stop to. “No, no, no, that’s fine. I’d love to have you as my familia, though there is one thing, really.”

“That is?”

Robin gives him a pained smile. “You’re Naga’s child, aren’t you?”

“It’s fine, isn’t it? I’ve cut connections with them.” He drinks, licking the froth from his lips.

Robin fumbles. “I’d rather— well, I doubt any god would want to get into trouble with Her, if you know what I mean.”

Runaway lordling, Robin thinks as he tries to come up with a way to excuse himself. Too bored of comfort, maybe. Why else would anyone leave the protection of Naga’s guild, he’d never know.

“Ah, well. You should eat.” The bottom of his tankard makes a light tap on the chipped table as he nods to the food. “For the company.”

“I have only my company to give, unfortunately.”

“You could give something else, if you wanted.” Chin rested on his arm, Chrom skirts his hand around Robin’s waist and gives it a light squeeze. “By that I don’t mean your blessing, just so you know.”

Robin frowns, then the realization hits him.

Chrom grins as he watches the shell of Robin’s ear betray his calm façade. His hand slides between Robin’s fingers, tracing the back of his palm suggestively.

“So. What do you say?”

Robin retracts from the silverware he’d been thumbing at as if it were hot iron.

He coughs, mouth dry, not knowing what to say. It’s not as if he doesn’t want to. He’d take up the offer, except that the offer in question involved the son of Naga, crown prince to Ylisse, next exalt in line, et cetera et cetera. Keeping his head attached to the rest of his body seems the better option, somehow.

His ears are burning and he knows his cheeks must be flushed pink.

He stands up. He’s a little unsure why he did that, but the moment he does the sound of wood splintering into a hundred tiny pieces bursts from the front door and the hysterical screams of drunken women and men tear through the dimly lit space. A beast the size of four men barrels into a table, bellowing lowly. Chrom’s brows knit.

“Not again.” Robin hears Chrom murmur, as the man unsheathes his sword. Immediately he flinches, stung by its mere presence.

Chrom shuffles, dodges the beast easily with a sidestep, grabbing Robin along with him by his coat. Robin’s back hits Chrom’s chest and there’s a moment where Robin has to take a moment to stop, feel Chrom’s arm wrapped tightly around his ribcage, then proceed to get unromantically yanked to the side so Chrom can hurl his entire weight on his blade to stab the beast through the skull.

It staggers, hooves tottering to a side, and slumps to the floor in an unflattering sprawl. The tavern is silent, void of patrons, blood pooling foully on the floorboards and dyeing them a deep, blackish hue.

“You alright?” Chrom turns towards Robin. “I swear, this doesn’t happen every—”

A terrifying shot of lightning sears through the air and past Chrom’s ear, its deafening crackle still splitting through his nerves as the stench of grilled flesh fills his nostrils. He pivots on a heel to see the beast reduced to charred bone and ash, black dust settling on his shoulders and hair. The animal had been this close to clamping its jaws around his head.

The clatter of loot materializing where its corpse should have been goes ignored in favor for the god brushing the remaining sparks from his fingers. Robin raises his head, crimson gaze so red it may as well have been dripping blood, and combs a stray strand of hair back its place.

Chrom has never seen someone as beautiful as Robin in his entire life.

“You,” he goes through his thoughts and files them away one by one, “you’re not just some run-of-the-mill god, aren’t you?”

Robin flicks the ash from his sleeves.

“I’ve never heard of a major god named Robin. Who are you? One of the Divine? The Twelve?”

“Neither.” Robin clears his throat. “Ahem. If you’re not taking that…”

Chrom muses as he lets Robin aside to pick up the chunk of mana left in the small crater of burnt wood and beast. Strange, that someone so powerful would mingle among the masses. One would think he’d heard of Robin’s name by now.

“I’ve decided.” Chrom announces to Robin who’s putting the little chunk of crystal into a pouch. “I’m going to be your familia.”

Robin pats his coat pocket. “Hm?”

“You said you were looking for one, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but. I can’t take you in. What with coveting Naga’s favorite son and all.”

“You like me, don’t you?”

Robin remembers their conversation just now and inhales.

“See, you do. I didn’t really expect to get in your familia just now, to be honest. Let’s just say I’ve been rejected more than once already.”

You wanted to get into my something else, Robin wants to say.

“Alright, alright, it’s fine if you don’t want to. Give me chance to— ack, where are you going-!”

Robin walks out of the tavern, crushing a fragment of the splintered door under the sole of his boot. Chrom rushes off after him, but the disgruntled bark of the owner pulls him back.

“Sir, I appreciate your work in protecting our patrons and staff, but the matter is…”

Distraught, he pulls out a heavy purse of coins and flicks a dull golden coin to the direction of the owner.

“I have to find him,” he says to nobody in particular, and scurries into the open. Robin is gone, though, leaving only the damp, empty street and a fluttering sensation in Chrom’s chest.

-

Robin meets him again in another inn, two days after, as he fingers through his pockets to find himself short on coin. He apologizes sheepishly to the counter, who looks at him in disdain. Then the delightful sound of copper slaps itself on wood and Robin finds himself face to face— or in reality, face-to-chest, with Chrom.

The woman at the counter counts the coin deftly and the sour expression on her face sweetens.

“Two rooms?”

“One will be fine.” Chrom says, and Robin represses the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

“Two.”

“One, separate beds.”

In the end, Robin fumes behind Chrom, but it’s the last inn that isn’t full so he’s obliged to follow. The key turns in the lock and Robin makes a beeline for the cramped bed against the wall, stripping himself of his coat and squirrelling under the sheets moment he kicks his boots off.

Chrom is at a loss for words.

“You… at least take a shower?”

“No thanks.”

“I’m not going to do anything to you.” Chrom knows he’s not very convincing, but he continues regardless. “Without your consent, anyways.”

“Says the one who stalked me out.”

“It was a coincidence, I swear.”

“To be clear, I owe you nothing.”

He phrases it like he’s going to continue it with another sentence. Chrom waits. And waits, until the soft snores of a deep sleeper rise from Robin’s bed and Chrom suddenly understands why the god managed to fall asleep in the middle of nowhere under the midday sun.

The situation is so comical that Chrom, upon emerging from the shower half an hour later, simply goes to bed instead of doing whatever he’d meant to do with the pretext of Robin still being awake.

He’s determined to seduce him, whatever it takes.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry
> 
> talk to me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/shtrigaei)! tumblr i don't use much but here's my [main](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/chocolatecocoamilk) / [side ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/aebers)


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